By the time Kevin started screaming, the hallway at Brookside Middle looked like every other American school corridor on a Tuesday morning—fluorescent lights buzzing, lockers slamming, the smell of cafeteria pizza floating in from somewhere—but to him, it felt like the world was ending.

“Where is he?!” His voice cracked, high and panicked. “Where’s Boxy?! He’s gone!”

Students turned. A couple laughed. Most just stared.

Annie was at her locker halfway down the hall when she heard him. She slammed the metal door so hard it rattled, heart jumping into her throat. New school, new state, new start—this was not how it was supposed to go.

“It’s okay, Kev,” she said, sprinting toward him, ponytail flying. Her kid brother stood in front of his open locker, hands shaking, eyes glassy. “We’ll find him, okay? We’ll find him.”

“No, we won’t,” he choked. “Somebody took him. They stole Boxy.”

On his first day at an underfunded public school in Southern California, the one thing that made him feel safe—an almost-square little plush with a cartoon grin from his favorite YouTube channel—was gone.

And Annie already had a good idea who’d taken him.

Boots clicked on linoleum. Laughter drifted in like perfume before the girls even arrived.

Macy Vickers appeared first—perfect curls, perfect eyeliner, perfect pastel varsity jacket with BROOKSIDE CHEER CAPTAIN stitched across the back like a crown she’d been born wearing. Her younger sister, Hailey, trailed behind her in a matching jacket, chewing bubble gum like it owed her money.

“What’s wrong?” Macy asked, but not like she actually cared.

“They stole Boxy!” Kevin burst out, fists balled at his sides. “They stole him!”

Hailey snorted. “Aw, that’s tragic. His little toy finally got tired of hanging out with him and ran away.” She laughed, bright and sharp. “Even your plush couldn’t handle you, huh?”

Macy doubled over, giggling. “Good one.”

Annie stepped in front of her brother without thinking, fingers tightening around the strap of her backpack.

“Which one of you did this?” she demanded. “Or was it both of you?”

Macy’s smile vanished. “Step back,” she said quietly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know one thing,” Annie snapped, and the word came flying out before she could stop it. “You’re a jerk.”

A breath sucked in from the crowd. Hailey’s jaw dropped like Annie had launched a bomb.

Macy’s eyes went wide. She staggered backward, letting out a sudden, high-pitched scream as she crashed dramatically against a row of lockers. Her arm hit the metal just right to make an echo that drew every adult within fifty feet.

“Oh my gosh!” she cried, clutching her elbow. “Ow! My arm!”

Teachers popped out of classrooms. The crowd parted like a sea. At the far end of the hallway, Principal Vickers came storming down the corridor like he’d been waiting all morning for a moment exactly like this.

“What on earth is going on?” he barked, tie flapping, face already red.

Macy sniffled. Hailey jumped in like she’d rehearsed. “Annie shoved her!” she cried. “She attacked Macy, and now her arm is hurt! I saw everything.”

“Yeah,” Macy added, milking it, wincing like every breath was agony. “It really hurts. Ow.”

“That’s not what happened!” Annie protested. “I didn’t even touch her!”

Kevin’s eyes filled with tears. “She’s lying,” he whispered, voice barely there.

Principal Vickers turned slowly, his gaze landing on Annie like a spotlight. He’d met her two days ago and already decided he didn’t like her. He didn’t like that his staff whispered about her old school. He didn’t like that his cheer coach had suddenly become starry-eyed after watching her practice. He didn’t like her mother, either, but that was a different problem.

“Annie,” he said, voice low and controlled, the tone adults use right before they flip a table. “This behavior is completely unacceptable. I’m going to have to expel you.”

“What?” Annie’s stomach dropped. The hallway blurred. “You can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever I want, young lady.” He straightened his jacket. “This is my school.”

And for the last three days, it had felt exactly like that: his rules, his mood, his daughters’ target list.

But the story hadn’t started in that hallway. It started three days earlier in a sun-bleached parking lot off a busy road in Los Angeles, with a rusty car that refused to start, a parking war over a painted line, and a boy who was already scared out of his mind.

“So who’s excited for their first day?” Annie’s mom asked, hands on the wheel, trying to sound cheerful as she pulled their aging sedan into the Brookside Middle & High lot.

“It’s gonna be great, right, Kev?” Annie nudged him.

Kevin sank lower in his seat, hugging Boxy tight. “I feel sick,” he whispered. His eyes fixed on the brick building, the American flag flapping out front, the blur of kids in hoodies and backpacks. “What if it’s like the last school? What if they hate me here too?”

“Hey.” Annie leaned over. “It’s okay. I’ll walk you to your first class. We got this. New school, new start.”

“No, no, no…” their mom muttered under her breath, turning the key again. The car coughed and died. “Of course this happens now.”

A car horn blared behind them. Annie glanced in the side mirror and saw the BMW. Sleek. Black. New. Very, very not theirs.

The girl behind the wheel slapped her palms on the steering wheel. Her lips moved—probably not saying “have a nice day.”

Annie’s mom exhaled. “Annie, why don’t you take your brother inside? I’ll deal with this, okay?”

“Okay.” Annie grabbed her backpack. “Come on, Kev.”

They stepped out into the hot California morning, air already shimmering. Their mom climbed out of the car and walked toward the BMW with an apologetic smile plastered on her face.

A long-legged blonde in oversized sunglasses rolled the window down with the attitude of someone who had never heard the word “no” in her life.

“That’s my spot,” she snapped before Annie was out of earshot. “First day and you’re already taking my place?”

“Sorry,” Lauren Hughes said, tired and polite. “We were having some car trouble. I didn’t see—”

“It’s going to be more trouble if you don’t move that bucket out of my space,” the girl cut in. “That spot’s reserved.”

“For who?” Lauren asked, though she already knew the answer.

“My dad,” the girl said, with a smile that had the same bite as her words. “Principal Vickers.”

Inside, the school smelled like floor cleaner and old textbooks, the universal scent of American middle school. Lockers lined each side of the hallway. Kids flowed past, chattering, phones out, some in hoodies, others in varsity jackets, a few with earbuds in, shutting the world out.

“You guys lost?” a boy asked, stepping away from his friends.

He had a messy wave of brown hair and a grin that looked like it showed up whenever he did. His backpack hung off one shoulder, covered in band stickers.

“Yeah,” Annie admitted. “I’m Annie. This is my little brother, Kevin. Our first day. We have no idea where we’re going.”

“I’m Aidan,” he said. “Pleasure. You need some aid-in?” He winced. “Wow, that sounded better in my head. Forget I said that.”

Annie laughed despite herself. “Bad joke. But I appreciate the effort.”

“Homeroom?” he asked.

“Ms. Carter,” Kevin murmured.

“Amazing. She was my homeroom teacher, too. She’s great. You have nothing to worry about, little man,” Aidan said. “Just remember—you’ve got your special friend with you, right?”

Kevin looked down at Boxy, tucked under his arm. The little plush seemed to grin up at him.

“Boxy’s not gonna leave your side,” Aidan added.

Kevin’s shoulders relaxed a little. “And I’ve got Foxy,” Annie said, lifting her own plush keychain clipped to her bag. “We’re like a team.”

“That’s… actually kind of cool,” Aidan said. “Come on, I’ll show you where your class is.”

Annie watched Kevin’s face soften. Her heart unclenched just enough to breathe.

He’s going to be okay, she told herself. We’re going to be okay.

The only person who wasn’t okay was their mother.

By the time she got the car to start and finally made it into the building, she was thirty minutes late and emotionally exhausted. She rushed into the front office, hair a little frizzier, blouse sticking to her back.

“Lauren Hughes,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “Your new vice principal. Sorry, my car decided to have a meltdown in the parking lot.”

The man behind the desk didn’t smile. He was tall, with steel-gray hair and a tie that looked like it had been ironed directly onto his stern chest.

“Excuses already,” he said. “Not a good sign for a new vice principal.”

“Not at all, sir,” she said, forcing a professional smile. “Won’t happen again. It’s great to finally meet you in person, Principal Vickers.”

He studied her. “Heard you ran Davenport Prep in Florida,” he said. “Top-tier private school. Impressive. Maybe you can tell me how you managed your finances. We don’t exactly have a big budget here.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’d be happy to take a look and see where we can help.”

He narrowed his eyes a fraction. “That won’t be necessary,” he said quickly. “I’ve got all of that covered.”

“Oh,” she said, thrown. “Well… wouldn’t another set of eyes be helpful—”

He cut her off with a thin smile. “This is my school. I make the decisions.” He gestured down the hall. “Your office is next to mine so I can keep an eye on you.”

The message was clear: welcome to Brookside, but don’t get too comfortable.

Kevin’s first class started like a lot of first classes in America: introductions, awkwardness, and one kid who decided today was the perfect day to be extra loud.

“I’m Kevin,” he said when Ms. Carter called him up front. His voice trembled. He held Boxy close enough to crease the plush fabric. “It’s my first day. I used to go to Davenport School.”

“Davenport?” someone in the back repeated.

Laughter bubbled from the middle row.

“What’s with the toy?” a girl sneered. She had thick mascara and a voice that carried. “Are you five?”

“Hailey,” Ms. Carter said sharply. “You know very well we don’t talk to classmates like that.”

“It’s not my fault he looks ridiculous,” Hailey said. “He’s the one walking around with a toy.”

“Last warning,” Ms. Carter said. “Have a seat, Kevin. And don’t listen to her. Some people know how to be kind. Some don’t.”

Kevin looked out over the classroom. Faces blurred. But one girl near the window gave him a small, nervous wave.

“I like your plush,” she whispered when he sat. “My little brother watches that channel all the time.”

Kevin’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “Thanks,” he murmured, cheeks pink.

At lunch, the same girl passed him in the hallway and kept walking, eyes down. Behind her, Macy and Hailey watched, arms folded, like bouncers guarding a VIP section.

Ava’s gaze flicked from them to Kevin and back again. She walked faster.

By day two, Annie knew the pattern. Macy and Hailey could own an entire cafeteria with one look. People shifted when they walked. They changed seats. They laughed a little too loudly at their jokes. If popularity was currency, the Vickers sisters were billionaires.

“I feel like this is actually just Justin in disguise,” Kevin said that afternoon, hunched over a video playing on his tablet. Two animated avatars stumbled through a digital forest.

“New video?” Annie asked, sitting on his bed with a bowl of popcorn.

“Yeah.” He grinned, for real this time. “He doesn’t know the noob is actually his friend in a secret room. He’s gonna completely flip when he finds out.”

“Well,” Annie said, watching the way his eyes shone in the glow of the screen. “It’s nice to finally see you smiling.”

“This is the only time I do smile,” he admitted. His voice went small. “Annie… do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“Kev,” she said firmly, sliding closer. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re just a little shy. You get anxious. That doesn’t make you less. It just makes school harder. But you’ve got me. You’ve got Mom. You’ve got Boxy. And today you made a new friend, right?”

He nodded reluctantly. “Ava talked to me. In class. She was nice. But at lunch she pretended she didn’t know me.”

“She’ll come around,” Annie said. “People at this school are scared of the wrong people. They’ll figure it out.”

Kevin sighed and leaned his head on her shoulder. “I just want to fit in,” he whispered.

“Trust me,” she said. “Fitting in is overrated.”

Down the hall, their mother was discovering just how overrated playing nice could be.

“There is something wrong with these numbers,” Lauren muttered under her breath, staring at the spreadsheet on her computer. She’d finally managed to get a copy of the school’s financials from the district office after Principal Vickers insisted she didn’t need them. Now she knew why.

Line after line of “consulting fees” going to the same LLC. Thousands of dollars labeled as “repairs” but with no invoices. Donations disappearing into a black hole.

“What are you doing?” Vickers’ voice snapped through her open door.

Lauren jumped, swiveling her chair away from the screen. “I was just going over the budget,” she said, heart pounding. “I thought I could help find ways to stretch—”

“Didn’t I specifically tell you I was handling the finances?” he said, stepping in, closing her door behind him.

“It’s part of my job,” she said carefully. “I’m here to help the school, not undermine you.”

“You’re here to do what I say,” he replied, eyes cold. “And I’m not going to remind you again.”

He left without waiting for an answer.

Lauren stared at the door long after it closed. Then she picked up her phone.

“Jan?” she whispered when the superintendent’s assistant picked up. “This is Lauren Hughes. I need a favor. And I’m afraid it’s a big one.”

The next morning, the attack came from another angle.

“Hi, Ava!” Kevin said as he walked in, lifting Boxy in a little wave.

Ava’s eyes widened. She turned on her heel and walked the other way without a word.

“What was that about?” Annie asked, joining him at his locker.

Before he could answer, Macy’s voice floated over, sweet and venomous.

“What’s the matter, Box Boy?” she cooed. “Still haven’t made any friends?”

Hailey leaned against a locker, arms folded. “Better get used to it, because if we have anything to say about it, you won’t make any here, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Annie demanded.

“It’s okay, Kev,” she whispered quickly. “We just need to be strong. Like our plushies, remember?”

“Is that what you’re carrying?” Principal Vickers’ voice cut through the hallway air like a cold wind. He stepped out of his office, eyes landing on the plush under Kevin’s arm. “What is that?”

“It’s Boxy,” Kevin said, voice barely a whisper. “He… he helps me.”

“That’s not allowed,” Vickers said briskly. “We don’t bring toys to school.”

“I’m sorry,” Lauren said, appearing beside them like she’d sprinted from the staff room. “But I don’t remember anything about comfort items being banned in the handbook.”

“You want to know what’s in the handbook?” Vickers said, not taking his eyes off Kevin. “Whatever’s in my head. Because I’m the one in charge.”

He jabbed a finger toward the plush. “That thing is a distraction. To him, to his classmates. Get it out of here.”

“Sir, please,” Lauren said, soft but urgent. “My son has severe anxiety. That toy helps him cope. He’s not hurting anyone.”

“He’d better learn to manage without it,” Vickers said. “Society is not going to coddle him.”

Kevin’s throat closed. His knuckles whitened around Boxy.

“Tell him to ditch the doll,” Vickers said. “Or else.”

Lauren’s chest ached. Every instinct screamed to fight, to tell this man exactly where he could shove his rule-book-in-his-head. But she also knew how much power he still had. For now.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, kneeling so they were eye to eye. “You’re going to have to put Boxy in your locker until I figure this out.”

“But—” Kevin started. “But—”

“You heard the principal,” she whispered. “There’s nothing we can do. Yet.”

Vice Principal Hughes, come on,” a teacher called from the end of the hall. “We’ve got a staff meeting.”

Lauren squeezed Kevin’s shoulder. “Be strong, okay? I’m right here in the building if you need me.”

As she walked away, Macy’s laughter followed.

“It’s about time that weird little plush got banned,” she said to Hailey. “He should get detention just for being that awkward.”

Kevin pressed his face against the soft cardboard-print fabric one last time.

“It’s going to be okay,” Annie whispered, touching his arm. “Lockers are like… extra rooms. Boxy’s just going to take a nap for a bit.”

The metal door clanged shut. The sound echoed down the hallway, louder than it had any right to be.

Days at Brookside weren’t all bad. There were bright spots—like Aidan waiting at the end of the hall before first period.

“You going my way?” he asked Annie, leaning against a locker that wasn’t technically his but looked like it should be.

“Maybe.” She smiled. “I don’t want to make your ‘girlfriend’ mad, though.”

He groaned. “We are not dating,” he said. “Macy just tells everyone we are. Apparently I missed the part where I agreed to that.”

“Head cheerleader claims you?” Annie teased. “Rough life.”

“One day you’ll understand my suffering,” he deadpanned, then grinned. “Come on. I’ll escort you to English so you don’t get lost.”

The cheer coach, Miss Hatcher, caught up to Annie at lunch, eyes bright. “Annie, right?” she said. “I’m the cheer coach here at Brookside. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Annie said carefully.

“Very good,” Miss Hatcher said. “Nationals with Davenport Prep? That’s huge. I really hope you’ll consider trying out for our team.”

“Actually—” Macy appeared out of nowhere like she had been summoned by the word “cheer.” “We have a full roster,” she said smoothly. “No space.”

“We can always expand the roster for someone like Annie,” Miss Hatcher said, not missing a beat. “We need strong leaders.”

“I don’t want to cause any drama,” Annie said quietly after Macy strutted away. “I don’t need the whole school hating me.”

“Between us,” Miss Hatcher said, leaning in, “the squad could really use fresh energy. Macy isn’t exactly the easiest captain. I’ve had complaints from half the team. Honestly? You’d be doing us a favor.”

Annie hesitated. The cheer mat had always been her safe place. The idea of flying again, of hitting stunts, of feeling her body move in sync with music, lit something inside her she’d thought she’d lost when they left Florida.

“Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll try out.”

Miss Hatcher’s smile could have powered the entire school. “Wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice.”

Across the cafeteria, Macy watched them with narrowed eyes.

“She really thinks she can come in here and steal my spotlight,” she muttered, stabbing her salad. “First my boyfriend—”

“He’s not your boyfriend,” Hailey said.

“—then my squad. And her mom’s trying to take Dad’s job. This whole family needs to learn their place.”

Her father nodded slowly at the head of the table, where he always ate with his daughters like they were some twisted version of a royal family. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re going to make sure they never forget whose school this is.”

By the time the third morning came, the trap was ready.

“I can’t believe I left Boxy in my locker,” Kevin said, chewing his thumbnail as they walked up the front steps.

“He’s probably fine,” Annie said, though her stomach clenched, too. “He wears cardboard. He can handle it.”

Kevin laughed weakly. It died the moment he opened his locker.

Boxy was gone.

“Where is he?!” he yelled, the panic swallowing any thought of staying calm. He yanked everything out—books, folders, a pencil that had already lost its eraser. Nothing.

“Where’s Boxy? He’s gone!”

“It’s okay, Kev,” Annie said, heart racing. “We’ll find him. Maybe he fell. Maybe—”

“Hey,” Aidan said, jogging up. “What’s—”

“They stole Boxy!” Kevin shouted, tears spilling over. “They stole him!”

A giggle floated through the hall like a siren.

“He’s such a mess,” Hailey said to Macy. “Even his plush wanted to get away from him.”

Macy laughed. “Maybe it grew legs and ran.”

“Which one of you did this?” Annie stepped forward, shaking. “Or was it both of you?”

“Step back,” Macy said coldly. “You have no proof.”

“I know you’re cruel,” Annie said. “That’s proof enough.”

“Oh?” Macy tilted her head. “You going to cry about it? Run to your mommy?”

Annie saw red. The words that had been lodged in her throat since day one came bursting out.

“You’re a jerk,” she snapped. “A mean, selfish jerk.”

Gasps rippled. Someone dropped a book.

Macy’s eyes widened. She took one theatrical step back. Then another. Her face twisted like she’d been shoved.

And then she let out the scream.

She flung herself backward, slamming into the lockers with a clang so loud it might as well have been a fire alarm. “Ow!” she shrieked, grabbing her arm. “My arm! She pushed me!”

“Oh my gosh!” Hailey cried. “Annie hit her! She totally attacked my sister!”

“I didn’t touch her!” Annie said, horrified. “She’s faking!”

“Daddy!” Hailey screeched down the hall. “Dad!”

And like always, he appeared.

“What on earth is going on?” Principal Vickers demanded, marching into the circle of students that had formed, phone cameras already flashing at the edges.

“Annie shoved me,” Macy whimpered, tears pooling perfectly in the corners of her mascaraed eyes. “For no reason. My arm really hurts.”

“That’s not true—” Annie started.

“Yes, it is!” Hailey cut in. “We were just walking, and she came out of nowhere and shoved her into the lockers and called us names and—”

“Annie,” Vickers said, his voice like ice. “Is this how you conduct yourself? Attacking other students? After I welcomed you into my school?”

“You banned my brother’s comfort toy, your daughters have been tormenting him since day one, and now you’re letting them lie about me?” Annie shot back. “You’re the one who—”

“That’s enough.” His jaw clenched. “You have a temper, young lady, and it has no place here. I’m going to have to expel you.”

“You can’t!” Kevin cried. “She didn’t do anything!”

“I can do whatever I want,” Vickers replied. “This is my school.”

“Not anymore.”

The voice cut through the hallway like a bell. Every head turned.

The superintendent stood at the far end of the corridor, flanked by a security officer and Lauren Hughes, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days but had finally remembered how to stand tall.

“Says who?” Vickers barked, though his face had lost a little color.

“Says the district,” the superintendent replied. Her suit was sharp, her stare sharper. “Says the school board. Says the financial audit. We need to talk, Principal Vickers. Right now.”

“What is the meaning of this?” he said, trying to laugh it off. “I’m dealing with a discipline issue—”

“And I’m dealing with something much bigger,” she interrupted. “Now I understand why you were so territorial about the finances.”

“Finances?” Macy echoed, looking between them.

“You’ve been illegally funneling school funds into your private company,” the superintendent said. “That’s theft.”

“That’s absurd,” he sputtered. “I’ve dedicated my life to this school—”

“And you’ve been abusing your position to target students on behalf of your daughters,” she added, nodding toward Annie and Kevin. “Intimidating staff. Ignoring policies. This is not leadership. This is misuse of power.”

Students murmured. Someone whispered, “Is he going to jail?”

“You are a disgrace to this profession,” the superintendent said. “Correction: were. As of this moment, Principal Vickers, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me,” he snapped. “This school needs me. You have no one else. You can’t just—”

“Oh, but we do,” she said. Her gaze slid to Lauren. “We have Lauren Hughes. Effective immediately, she will be serving as Brookside’s new principal. That is, if she wants the job.”

Lauren’s jaw dropped. “Are you sure?” she asked, voice barely audible.

“I can’t think of anyone better,” the superintendent replied. “You’ve already done more for these kids in three days than he has in three years.”

Lauren swallowed, then nodded. “I’d be honored,” she said. “I won’t let you down.”

“You can’t do this!” Vickers shouted as the security officer stepped forward. “I’ll sue! I’ll sue all of you. I’ll sue the board. I’ll sue the district. I’ll sue the kids—”

“You have the right to remain silent,” the officer said calmly, taking his arm.

Macy and Hailey watched, horror dawning as their father was led away in handcuffs, their perfect world crumbling under the fluorescent lights of a California hallway.

“This is so embarrassing,” Macy whispered. “For us.”

Hailey grabbed her phone. “Don’t worry, Daddy! I’ll call a lawyer!” she cried, chasing after them in heels that suddenly didn’t look so powerful.

The door swung shut behind them.

For a long moment, the hallway was silent.

Then someone started clapping.

It was Aidan.

Then Ava.

Then Ms. Carter. Miss Hatcher. A wave of applause rippled through the corridor until it felt like the building itself was exhaling.

Kevin stood in the middle of it all, frozen.

“Kev,” Annie said, turning to him. “You did it.”

“I… did?” he whispered.

“You stood up,” she said, eyes shining. “You told the truth. You didn’t let them scare you. And Mom listened. The superintendent listened. You helped get rid of the worst people in this place.”

He looked at his empty arms and felt the familiar ache. “But… Boxy,” he said. “He’s still gone.”

Lauren smiled then, the first real smile in days. “You’ll never guess where I found him,” she said.

She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out the familiar square shape. Boxy looked a little squished, but his cartoon eyes still beamed.

“In the principal’s office,” she said. “Locked in a drawer.”

Kevin gasped, grabbing the plush like a lifeline. “They took him?” he whispered.

“And now we took him back,” Lauren said. “Just like we’re taking this school back.”

A cheer went up. Kevin squeezed Boxy to his chest, feeling the soft fabric press against him. For the first time since they’d moved to California, the knot in his stomach loosened.

Next to him, Annie felt her heart steady. A new principal. A chance to cheer. A brother finally starting to believe he wasn’t broken. A school that might finally become what it should have been all along.

A place where a shy kid with a cardboard plush and a girl from a fancy prep school could actually belong.

In the middle of a noisy American hallway, with the 405 humming somewhere in the distance and the California sun already heating the day, it felt like a brand-new start.